


Dear Avidan

by Oak_Leaf



Category: The Silver Eye (Webcomic)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Childbirth, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Motherly love, avidandan, mothers, sappy and sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-18 02:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oak_Leaf/pseuds/Oak_Leaf
Summary: Ruth Leto holds her son for the first time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Quick shout-outs to:  
> Fair-and-Finn and to Aceofstars16 for having coined the nickname "avidandan"!  
> Maysartcorner for being an awesome friend and beta-reader!  
> Laura Hollingsworth for creating such an incredible webcomic and letting her fans play with it!

They won’t let her see the baby at first.

The wailing cry pierces the air, and with it comes a sense of relief so sharp it is almost as painful as the labor had been. Ruth wants to weep, or laugh, if she had the energy...or maybe just give in to her exhaustion and fall asleep. It takes all of her strength, but she raises herself up on her arms so that she can see the child— _her_ child—and she doesn’t even have the energy to reach or ask for him. But the nurses are at her side in an instant, soothing her and gently guiding her back down.

“You need rest, your Majesty,” they tell her, while others whisk the child away before she can even lay eyes on it. Someone goes out to the outer chambers—announcing the birth, she supposes—and a cheer goes up from whoever is gathered out there.

The nurses wipe her forehead and have her sip water. It was a difficult labor, they tell the queen (as if she needed to be informed _that_ ), and she should regain her strength before anything else. There would be time enough to see her son later.

 _Her son._ Her son. A boy. She has a son….

Ruth smiles and tears make their way down her face. She almost doesn’t notice when the nurses clear away the bedding, and she is only dimly aware that her ladies bring a fresh nightgown which they change her into. She doesn’t say a word. Once they are finished with their ministrations, however, the queen feebly catches hold of a nurse’s arm, and orders for her son to be brought to her.

“Your Majesty, it is important for you to recover now. We will take care of the young prince.”

“Let me see him,” the queen repeats. She puts more strength than she feels into those words, and meets the woman’s eyes resolutely, determined. 

The nurse ducks her head respectfully with a murmur and slips away. In a few moments, the midwife brings a blanketed bundle to the queen’s bedside. “Your son, my queen.” Her eyes latch hungrily onto his small face as he is laid on her chest, and her arms curl around him.

He is bald as a fish. His skin is red, blotchy, wrinkled. His face is squinched up, eyes screwed tight and mouth twisted. And he is beautiful. She doesn’t know if she’s seen anything so beautiful in her entire life—if she ever will see anything more beautiful. Her son is small in her arms, and so warm and alive.

The tears make an appearance again, hot in her eyes and streaming in rivulets down her cheeks.

She had loved him before. From the moment she learned of his existence, she had loved the child growing inside her. Both she and Daniel had doted on the baby, and spoken excitedly, hopefully, about what he or she would be like. 

Daniel had teased her for her habit of singing lullabies to a child that wasn’t even born yet, but she had caught him more than once speaking to their child with gushing baby-talk when he thought she was asleep.

(Neither of them had spoken of the possibility of there not being a birth. But all the same, it wasn’t denied. With their history, it would have been foolish to pretend there would be no danger this time. The fear was there in Daniel’s frantic attention to her, and her panicked care about each move and step she made. It was there in the protective way Ruth wrapped her arms around her belly, in Daniel’s tender hand on the growing bump, in every show of affection for their child.)

“Avidan,” she croons, softly, breathless with more than just exhaustion. That was the name she and her husband had chosen if it were a boy; saying it out loud shakes a little of the dreamlike quality out of the moment. This is Avidan, her child is Avidan. He’s real and in her arms, for the whole world to see.

She wants Daniel to see him.

The queen runs the back of one finger against Avidan’s cheek, his skin soft under her touch. He blinks his eyes in the cutest way and nuzzles his face against her hand that trembles from exhaustion. “I love you,” she murmurs. “My little Avidandan,” (she likes that nickname; she thinks she’ll use it often,) “and your father will love you so...so much. Just you wait to meet him. He...would have been here...if you hadn’t...been...in such a...hurry.”

Daniel will be upset to have missed Avidan’s birth. He had been reluctant to leave for the conflict at the border in the first place, even though the child hadn’t been expected for two months. She smiles, imagining his exaggerated irritation. “Don’t worry...he’ll forgive you.”

A commotion sounds from...somewhere in one of the outer rooms. Ruth can hear the voices, muffled through the doors, but clearly distressed. The door opens and she briefly catches the word “attack” before the door is shut again.

Normally, her curiosity would be insatiable until she learned what the matter was. But, right now, she’s too drained to be concerned or even find the energy to care.

Tired...so, so tired.

A nurse steps forward, offering to take Avidan from her. Ruth nods weakly.

Her body feels so heavy and sinks back into the pillows, sleep quickly claiming her. As she drifts off, she wishes faintly, again, that Daniel could have been there. But she comforts herself knowing that he will certainly be at her side when she wakes. He will be there then, and she can introduce him to their impatient, perfect little child.

She smiles, and allows herself to rest.


End file.
